Page 32 of Lavender and Linebackers

“Trust me, it’s not.”

I shake my head in disappointment.

“You want to know how I know? Because I watched you both at the barbecue and at the football jamboree. He seemed off his game and uncomfortable, whereas you were spectacular. If anyone is sitting around and wondering, it is him. Other than having to work side by side with him, it may as well have been Ryder Who?”

Ryder Who. My brain could probably get on board with this, but my heart won’t. But Kelli’s not wrong. There’s no way I would have been able to do this with him previously. Maybe even as close as a year ago. One of the things I most remember the therapist telling me is, “It’s okay to grieve what we lost, while at the same time finding joy in what we’ve found. It doesn’t have to be one or the other. We can allow ourselves to feel both.”

Is that what I’m feeling? Both. I’m still grieving him, even more so at the current predicament I’ve found myself in, but also joy, because I am loving living in Tampa with Kelli, what we’ve created with the Mighty Monarchs, and being a professional cheerleader. Being back at the school with him today and watching him smile and laugh with his old coach—how could I not feel both? While it’s been years, and I’m proud of how much I’ve moved on and grown, that place made me feel like it was yesterday.

I let out a deep sigh. “I feel like I’m sliding backward.”

“No, babe, what you’re feeling is growing pains. You’re growing in a way that your heart, mind, and body know it needs to coexist with him. You’re surviving in a world that is overlapping with his, and I think you’re doing amazing.”

Amazing.

I soak up her words and take a moment to stand outside of my body, to escape the emotions, and to see the whole situation. I am doing amazing.

Look at how far I’ve come.

Look at what I’m doing for the Mighty Monarchs.

“Thank you,” I whisper to her as she leans over and hugs me.

“Always.”

Closing my eyes, I ask her the question I’ve asked her a hundred times. “Why do you think he did it?”

“I don’t know, and we probably never will.”

I let out another deep sigh.

“Want to order some Chinese food?” she asks.

My eyes pop open with excitement.

“Chinese?” We usually only splurge once a month on delivery, and this time will make it two.

“Oh, yeah,” she says, grinning. “We can watch that new Netflix rom-com series too. It came out today.”

She knows just how to cheer me up.

Food and binge-watching television.

Chapter 12

Ryder

It’s been a week and a half since I last saw Alice.

It feels like it’s been years.

Well, maybe it has.

But again, I’m glad for the break. The handful of times in August feels like a handful too many, but at the same time, it doesn’t.

I made fun of Alice drinking coffee, calling it a dependency. The ironic part is that’s what she always was to me. I needed her in a way that would calm me and ground me. I craved her then, and with each passing interaction that we have, I fear I’m starting to crave her again, more and more. I think about her when I go to bed; I think about her when I wake up; I think about her when I’m practicing, eating, showering, working on the house, and at this point, I’m pretty sure I’m thinking about her when I’m sleeping too. At some point, if these interactions continue, I know that thinking will turn to wanting.

Fortunately, we only have three events left after this one. Any and all communication with her will be up to me, and I’m leaning toward none. I hate the ache that she causes, and even though it is ever present as always, I refuse to think about that now.